


stepping stones

by onceagainoncemore



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adorable Georgie Denbrough, Alternate Universe - Circus, Bad Flirting, But also, Christmas Presents, Clown Richie, Contortionist Eddie Kaspbrak, Crush at First Sight, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hand Balancer Richie, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Injury, Innuendo, M/M, Pet Names, Sword Swallower Richie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, being ignored by ur new bf bc of a kitten, making playlists for the guy u have a crush on, sometimes i remember i went to clown school and am in a unique position to criticise pennywise, theres puppies now :]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22629898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceagainoncemore/pseuds/onceagainoncemore
Summary: “I swallow, babe.”Eddie raises his eyebrows.“Sword swallowing!” Richie laughs.OR:A self indulgent circus!au
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 34
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from a quote of my favourite children's series - mr galliano's circus!
> 
> thank u everyone for supporting this mess. i lov u all

“Good morning!” The barista says, and Eddie sighs. He couldn’t sleep last night, and usually he stayed as far away from coffee as he could, but he was going to fall straight off the tightrope today if he didn’t get some caffeine into himself right now. “What would you like today, sir?”

“Mocha,” Eddie says, and hands the banknote over. He gets a couple coins in change, and he shoves them in his pocket as he moves to the collecting side. There’s a cork-board set up, with posters for local events. One of them is a poster Eddie helped design -  _ The Denbroughs’ Dazzling Circus!.  _ The poster is a photo of all four Denbroughs on a tightrope, standing with their arms out. It’s a wonderful photo, and Bill even has it as his phone background. The bottom has the name of some of the acts, and Eddie smiles when he sees  _ Eddie Kaspbrak - America’s Most Flexible Boy! _

“The circus is back in town,” The barista says when she hands over his drink. “It’s a poster from another tour, but I just like this one better. Are you going to see it?”

“Yep,” Eddie says, and takes a sip of his mocha. 

“It’s going to be amazing,” The girl says as he leaves, and he drops the change into her tip jar.

  
  
  


**bev:** _ There will be a couple newbies @ prac today! Your time will be cut a bit short. _

**eddie:** _ All good. Need to take a break anyway. _

**bev:** _ That’s my boy! _

  
  
  


Eddie hates, and always will hate the first tightrope walk of the day. It’s the worst one. Even though it was just practice, Eddie wants to be able to always walk without falling, and maybe be like Bill and Georgie who could scamper across the wire without a net in less time than it takes to blink. Eddie had trained in tightrope walking since he started circus. He doesn’t know why he’s like this.

He steps forward, feeling out the resistance. His practice boots were worn down to mere strings, and if he squeezed his toes, he could almost feel out every wire that made up the rope. 

“You can swallow swords?” He hears Georgie yell, and he steps back onto the perch. There were a couple new people joining their circus today, and Stan and Bill were testing them out for a couple of weeks, before accepting a couple to join their larger American tour. Eddie was excited to move on, even if the circus had only just started their California tour. “That’s so cool! Can you teach me?”

“How old are you, kiddo?” Comes an unfamiliar voice. “I only teach those over the age of seventeen.”

“Damn,” Eddie hears as he falls, backwards, to the net. “I’m only thirteen.”

“Get back up there, Kaspbrak!” Bev’s voice calls out from one of the stands. “You can introduce yourself later!”

Eddie sighs, rolls over, and begins to climb up the stairs to the perch again. He pops the joints in his neck before he takes that first step again, and he breathes out heavily. He wobbles, but he stabilizes, and most of the walk goes smoothly. The other side is harder to cross, the resistance suddenly far too loose for Eddie to feel comfortable handling. He throws his arms out to try to balance, and speeds up, and gets to the other perch without falling.

“Good!” Bev calls, and Eddie leans against the wooden perch barrier to look down at her. She’s sewing something, and Georgie and the stranger were looking up at him. Eddie waves to Georgie, who waves back excitedly. Kid probably just wanted it to be his turn on the rope. “Looking better!”

“Thanks Bev!” Eddie calls. He stretches his neck again, his shoulders tight from tensing, and tests the rope again. He needed to work on his act. He takes a few steps, feels the eyes of the stranger watching him, and trips. It’s a fall he’s had choreographed for years, but this time it’s harder to catch himself on his hands and swing back onto the rope.

The stranger whistles.

Eddie reaches the other side easier than he did walking normally, playing up the wobbles as he always did, and faux-faints into the net, just to hear Georgie laugh.

“Bevvie, can you spot me?” Georgie jumps up, and Bev laughs, and follows him to stand near the lower kid’s tightrope. Eddie takes the seat next to Bev’s, and kicks his boots off, stretching his feet out.

“It’s weird to find that attractive, right?” The stranger says, and Eddie laughs a little. “Heya, Peter Pan. I’m Richie.”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, and when Richie holds his hand out, he shakes it. 

“Cute,” Richie says. “Lil’ Eddie Spaghetti. You flexible, Peter?”

“I’m a contortionist,” Eddie says, and Richie fans himself, and Eddie can’t help but smile. “Plenty flexible, Wendy.”

“Oh, I’m Wendy!” Richie cheers, and sticks his tongue out, pretending to pant. Richie wipes his forehead, and pulls his legs up so he’s sitting cross-legged. “I swallow, babe.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Sword swallowing!” Richie laughs. “Your face. Nah, I do swords, I clown, I hand balance. Stuff you’ve seen before, I bet. Nothing too impressive.”

“Hand balancing is one of my favourite things to watch,” Eddie lies, and hopes it’s convincing. Hand balancing was usually so boring, a long, long,  _ long  _ seven minutes watching someone stand on their hands and do nothing else. But Richie seems a lot more interesting than every other hand balancer, including Ben.  _ Sorry Ben,  _ he thinks. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for you.”

“Even if it wasn’t, I’m sure I could change your mind,” Richie says, and pops the joint of his thumb. Eddie spends a little too long looking at Richie’s hands after. 

“Richie Tozier!” Stan calls from the other side of the ring, standing where the door to the dressing room was. Stan had trained as a ventriloquist for a couple years, and threw his voice better than anyone Eddie had ever heard. It sounded like he was sitting right next to them. “Ben’s here for your warm up. We have someone here to choreograph your routine!”

“I’ll see you later, Peter,” Richie says, salutes, and skips down the stands, and towards Stan.

  
  
  


Eddie lays his inside yoga mat down in his hotel room, and sits cross legged, tipping his head side to side and feeling the familiar burn of well-used muscles. He leans forward, his forehead on the ground, and takes a deep breath.

His phone buzzes. 

He pats around for it, not leaving the stretch.

**bev:** _ Gave Richie your number. Hope that’s okay! _

**eddie:** _ It’s fine. Thanks, Bevvie. _

**Unknown Number:** _ hewwo spaghetti! i hope u kno who this is :] _

**eddie:** _ Hello, Richie. _

**richie:** _ nice to meet u today :^} _

**eddie:** _ It was very nice to meet you too. _

Eddie puts his phone down, and adjusts into a crow preparation, enjoying the feeling of his arms shaking. He was tired, but he needed to stretch out or his contortion act next month would hurt. He lifts his leg into a one legged crow, and grabs his phone again.

**richie:** _ u have to show me ur bendy act soon  _

**eddie:** _ If you’re still here next month, I’ll be performing it. _

Eddie pauses. 

**eddie:** _ But I am warming up in the tent at ten tomorrow. If you’d prefer a more private show. _

**richie:** _ ur killing me. _

Eddie grins, and pulls his leg down through to a pyramid.

  
  
  


“I was promised a private show,” Richie whispers into Eddie’s ear the next morning, and Eddie shrieks. He drops the handful of costumes he was carrying for Bev, and spins around to glare at Richie, who was grinning smugly. He was no longer wearing glasses, but they were hooked on the collar of his shirt. Eddie flicks at them, aiming for the plastic rim. “Mornin’, Eddie.”

“Good morning,” Eddie says, and picks the costumes up. “I just need to give these to Bev and then we’ll warm up together.”

“Oh,” Richie says as he follows. “You think I’ll be paying attention to my warm up routine?”

Eddie throws another glare at Richie over his shoulder.

  
“You better,” Eddie says. “If you injure yourself I’m never talking to you again.”

Richie laughs, and Eddie tries not to think too hard about why he was so worried about someone who he’d known for a max of twenty hours. 

“Morning Eddie!” Bev says when he dumps the pile onto her desk. “Didn’t expect you so early, Richie. Rehearsal doesn’t start til three thirty!”

“Eds convinced me,” Richie says, still laughing. “He’s got a way with words.”

Bev laughs, and shoos them away. She winks at Eddie as they head back to the ring, and gives him two thumbs up. He flips her the bird, and he can still hear her giggling when they get back into the main area. Eddie’s skipping rope and yoga mat were already leaning against the ring curb with his drink bottle, and Richie’s stuff - balance stands, wrist supports with a tiger fur print, and cup of coffee - was sitting next to them.

“You need a drink bottle,” Eddie frowns. “I can buy you one for today.”

“I have cash,” Richie says. “No need.”

They grab their equipment, and Eddie leads them outside. Eddie used to despise working outside, terrified of the threat of cancer and sunburn, but the first year he was with the circus, he performed so many mini shows outside he’d eventually gotten used to it. He even enjoyed it now. They pass one of the vendors, just starting to set up, and Eddie uses his nicest smile to get a plastic drink bottle from the owner.

Richie sets his stands down in the shade of the big top, checking the ground to see if it was straight and flat. It seems to pass his inspection, and when Eddie places his stuff down and starts skipping, Richie jumps in time. Eddie skips for about four minutes, and Richie only lasts for three.

“Skipping is good for your stamina,” Eddie says.

“Trust me, Mary Lennox, I don’t need any help in that area,” Richie wheezes. Eddie grins, twists his skipping rope into a neat circle, and rolls his yoga mat out. Richie pulls on his wrist supports, leans against the stands, and then tightens the supports once more. “I think you’ll find I last longer than expected.”

“Prove it,” Eddie says, and Richie winks, the motion big and exaggerated, and they both laugh. Richie rolls his shoulders out, and stands up, and then very slowly - so slowly, in fact, that Eddie didn’t realise he was moving until a couple seconds had passed - straddle levers up to a handstand. He’s traditionally trained, toes pointed, head tucked in between his shoulders, and Eddie can’t stop looking.

Richie brings his legs down smoothly into a pike stand, and winks at Eddie again. Eddie raises his arms, and goes through the motions of the mountain pose, but he keeps an eye on Richie’s balance practice the whole time. Richie’s calmer when he’s balancing, all his focus centered on his hands. Eddie sees that concentration waver when he lifts one arm to do a single handed handstand, and Richie breaks his perfect poise to look at Eddie and bat his eyelashes. 

Eddie sits in his lunge, and then into his splits, pointing and flexing his toes, leaning forward to rest his cheek on his thigh so he can watch Richie spin his handstand around. Eddie’s only seen Ben do the spin on stands, and Ben always made it jerky. Richie’s spin was smooth, and unless you looked at his forearms, you couldn’t tell he was doing anything to move them at all.

Eddie was maybe staring at Richie’s forearms.

“I feel like you’re the one getting the show,” Richie says, once he lands. When he raises his head, he looks woozy for a second, and Eddie slides out of the splits to sit up and pass him the drink bottle.

“It’s a good show,” Eddie says.

“And you’re getting it for free,” Richie says, and brings a finger up to boop Eddie’s nose. Eddie scrunches his face up, and Richie coos. “Cute, cute, cute. You a headliner act, cutie?”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Though being a male contortionist gets me some press.”

“I bet,” Richie says, and sits down, taking a huge gulp from the bottle. “Shame. Cuter than that little kid, aren’tcha? All sweet-eyed.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but Richie just laughs. “Dick.”

“Aye,” Richie says, in some odd accent. “That’d be me. Ol’ Dick Tozier.”

“Can you tightrope walk?” Eddie says. He’s feeling warm, and although he’ll have to restretch when rehearsal starts, he feels good. He stands up, and rolls his yoga mat up. Richie doesn’t take his supports off, but he collects his bottle and stands and coffee cup, and follows Eddie back inside the big top.

“‘Course,” Richie says. “What self-respecting clown doesn’t spend three years learnin’ how to tightrope so he can successfully perform a falling act? I can tightrope, Spaghetti. Maybe not as good as you, but I can tightrope. Why? You wanna duo?”

“Just askin’,” Eddie says. “You’d look nice in a tightrope costume.”

“Those boring things?” Richie squawks. “No, no, all I wear is glitter and feathers, baby.”

“I can see it in your hair,” Eddie says, and reaches up on his tiptoes to ruffle Richie’s hair. Richie doesn’t move away - he even ducks his head a little so Eddie can reach it better. “Do you wash, grot?”

“Yes,” Richie says. “Glitter breeds, sweetheart. Didn’tcha know that? It’s the goddamn lice of the crafting world. Once a place has it, never goes away, full stop. I’ll be ninety fuckin’ years old and the lucky nurse who washes my hair will go home with glitter-red hands.”

“You mean that poor nurse, having to wash someone like you,” Eddie says, and Richie shoves him, and they laugh.

  
  
  


Three thirty comes sooner than Eddie wants it to. Richie leaves him to eat his salad alone, skipping over to Ben, Bev and their choreographer. Eddie’s tightrope partner arrived a couple minutes ago, and was stretching, entertaining Georgie with all his questions on human cannon balls. 

The first show was in a week and a half, plenty of time to practice, but Eddie still felt a little apprehensive about it. Richie was new, Bev hadn’t hand balanced for a show since last year… It was adding up to be a bad show.  _ Bad thoughts create bad realities,  _ Eddie thinks, but he can’t get the feeling out of his head.

Eddie takes the last bite of his salad, mostly just feta, and stands up to join his partner.

Jordan was Eddie’s age, but he was much taller. They only ever worked together occasionally, usually when Georgie was with his parents, so the circus could still have a partnered tightrope act. Their act was typical - walking past each other, bouncing, and Eddie would be picked up, and Jordan would walk on an angled rope carrying Eddie. 

“Ready?” Jordan says, looking thankful to be excused from Georgie. Eddie ruffles the kid’s hair, and nods. Eddie climbs up first, and walks onto the tightrope backwards, just a few steps. Jordan follows, but stays on the perch until Eddie’s reached the middle. Then he steps onto the rope, and Eddie feels his heartbeat increase when the rope begins to bounce in time with Jordan’s steps. 

Eddie holds his arms out, and Jordan picks him up, and pretends to trip, Eddie far too close to falling for his heart to calm. Eddie knows this routine, knows even if he does fall there’s a net, but that doesn’t stop him from panicking.

They reach the perch, and Jordan drops Eddie, and when Eddie looks over the barrier, Richie’s whistling. 

“You feeling okay?” Jordan asks, and Eddie nods, and very carefully, cartwheels back onto the rope, moving into his dance. Jordan grins from the perch. 

Eddie spins, feels the rope wobble, and he falls into the net. 

“Get back in there!” Richie calls. “Lookin’ good, good looking!”

Eddie smiles, and climbs back up to the perch, Jordan waiting for him on the other side. They do the next part successfully - Eddie swings under so Jordan can pass, and Eddie bows, on the rope, to the hand balancers. Richie and Bev cheer, and Ben claps.

  
  
  


“Wanna get drinks once we’re done?” Richie asks when Eddie falls into the net again. He helps Eddie get out, but doesn’t drop his hand until Eddie lets go to drink from his bottle with both hands. 

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Straight after practice?”

“Yeah, why not?” Richie says. “I love your outfit. It’s- what are the kids calling it?  _ Chic. _ ”

All Eddie’s wearing is an old, soft pair of shorts and a cheap printed t-shirt. He looks down at himself, up at Richie’s outfit - black leggings, black singlet, a loud button up draped out his shoulders - and shrugs. 

“Why not,” Eddie echoes. “You’re paying.”

“Like a date?” Richie leers, and leans against the ring curb so his face is right in Eddie’s.

“I don’t go on dates with boys that haven’t impressed me,” Eddie says, and puts his drink bottle down. “If you can impress me with your balancing before today’s over, I’ll let you call it a date.”

“Done deal,” Richie says, shakes Eddie’s hand, and skips back to Ben and Bev. Eddie sits down in one of the audience seats, and settles to watch Richie for the last half hour of rehearsal. Once Georgie counts down to the end, Richie waltzes over, taking a sip from Eddie’s drink bottle. “Good enough, Miss Bennet?”

“Not quite,” Eddie says, and takes his bottle back. “But I’ll let you try again tomorrow.”

Richie grins, steps over the ring curb, and offers his arm for Eddie to take. Eddie slings his backpack over his shoulder, links arms with Richie, and allows him to walk them to Richie’s car.

  
  
  


The bar Richie drives them to is only just opening, the neon sign flickering a  _ ten to late!.  _ It’s seedy, and the outside looks like it’s never been cleaned, but Richie relinks their arms and walks them inside, so Eddie doesn’t voice any complaints. It’s cleaner inside, and there’s less patrons than expected, so Eddie begrudgingly approves.

“You old enough to drink?” Richie says as they sit at a booth. 

“Twenty three,” Eddie says. “You’re the one here that looks like a fifteen year old gangly string bean who just learnt how to use a razor.”

Richie’s hands ghost over the small cut on the edge of his jaw, and he grins.

“Same,” Richie says. “I’ll get us some drinks?”

“Manhattan,” Eddie says, and Richie bows in response.

“As you wish,” Richie says, and walks off to the bar. Eddie pulls his phone out.

**eddie:** _ I left my car at the top tonight. Make sure Stan doesn’t tow it. _

**bev:** _ One condition - why did you leave it? You hate leaving your rentals with the top. _

**eddie:** _ Went drinking. _

**eddie:** _ With Richie. _

**bev:** _ Oh. Ohhhh. _

**bev:** _ I’ll tell Jordan to not pick you up too rough tomorrow 👀👀 _

**eddie:** _ Not like that, Bevvie. _

“Here you go, darling!” Richie says, and Eddie’s drink is slid across to him. Eddie stops it before it skids into his lap and takes a sip, and watches Richie have a sip of his. It’s a pink cocktail, and one Eddie doesn’t think he’s seen before. Richie seems to enjoy it, based on the little moan he lets fall from his mouth.

“Why’d you ask just me to drink?” Eddie asks.

“Are you complaining?” Richie asks. 

“No,” Eddie says, testing the weight of the syllable on his tongue. “Just a little confused.”

“I like you,” Richie says. “Maybe just as a friend, but I’m not sure yet. You fine with that, Spaghetti?”

“Perfectly,” Eddie says, and takes another sip. Richie smiles slowly, and Eddie relishes in the warm feeling both the alcohol and Richie gives his stomach.

  
  
  


“I had fun,” Richie says, and Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt. They’d only stayed for that one drink, as Eddie hated going into hotels after midnight. He always felt like he was intruding, even if he was paying to be there. Eddie had thought for a brief second that Richie would make fun of his little schedule, but he’d just nodded, and led them back to his car. “I hope you did.”

“I did,” Eddie says. And then, to stop the silence that comes- “I’ll be catching a ride with Bev tomorrow morning, so I’ll be at the top bright and early, if you want to stretch together again. It was… fun.”

“Well, if you’re asking,” Richie says.

“I am,” Eddie says, and opens the door. “See you tomorrow, Mr Darcy.”

He walks up to the hotel, the sound of Richie’s surprised laughter ringing in his ears.

  
  
  


“Eddie, my love!” Richie calls from the tightrope perch, his legs hanging down, straddling the rope. Bev had left her portable speaker on the ring curb, and Eddie could see Richie’s phone sitting next to it, displaying the song that was playing. “ _ I love you so… Please Eddie, don’t make me wait too long!” _

Richie manages to sing along with the same old fashioned accent as the singers, and for the rest of the song, the accent continues to deepen, becoming more and more ridiculous. The song finishes, and Richie swings his legs, his ballet-style shoes half on, half off. 

“G’evening, guvnor,” Richie says.

“It’s nine o’ clock in the morning,” Eddie says.

“Well a hap-hap-happy morning to you, sir,” Richie says, this time his British accent now of a cliche Victorian orphan child. “Chip-chip-cheerio! Scamper up, my good fellow! Rest your weary soles with little ol’ me.”

Eddie kicks his sneakers off, and digs his boots out of his backpack. Socks off, boots on, and then he vaults over the ring curb so he doesn’t have to walk around to the ladder they’re supposed to use to get to the perches. There was a ladder on the perch Richie was on, but it was meant to be an emergency one, one to use if they fell. Nobody ever really paid attention to that.

“Guvnor,” Eddie says once he’s up with Richie, and slumps his back against the perch barrier. Richie spins so he’s facing Eddie, his back to nothing, and shuffles over when Eddie mimes kicking him out. 

“You’re very cute, Eds,” Richie says. “But your voices suck.”

“Yours aren’t much better,” Eddie says.

“Ah, but they are better,” Richie says. “I’ll teach you an easy one.”

Richie pulls his phone out, scrolls through his music library,  _ hmms  _ and  _ ahs  _ over a couple options, and then plays something. It’s a recording of what sounds like a stereotypical art critic, their voice dry and bored. Richie mouths all the words in sync, and Eddie pays more attention to that than what the recording was saying. It finishes, and Richie shuffles closer.

“Snap your tongue against the top of your mouth,” Richie says, and demonstrates. Eddie’s click is nowhere near as clear as Richie’s, but he nods anyway. “Chin up. You hafta talk like you think you’re better than everyone else. Purse your lips. Shoulders a little tense. Yeah, that’s it. Speak from the top of your throat, letting it sit in your mouth. Go. Say something.”

“With regard to the issue of content, the-” Eddie holds the accent longer than he expects, but it falls when he laughs. Richie laughs along with him, and raises a hand to pinch at his cheek.

“Cutest little critic!” Richie says. “Critique all my acts, wouldja?”

“The immature presence of the actor combined with the unoriginality of the piece makes for a wholly uninteresting experience, one that is so forgettable you forget every movement the second it is completed,” Eddie says, and the accent only wavers a little. Richie cackles, his whole body shaking with laughter, the tightrope shaking along with him. 

“I’m gonna be a voice actor one day,” Richie says, once they’ve calmed down. “Best damn voice actor you’ve seen.”

“I believe you,” Eddie says. Richie smiles.

“First step - audition for the ventriloquist spot, destroy Stan in the process, maybe steal Bill’s job,” Richie says, and they laugh again.

“That’s just the first step?” Eddie asks.

“I’ve devoted a whole one to getting you to fall for me,” Richie says. 

“I feel special,” Eddie says. And he does feel a little special.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Smile,” Richie says, and Eddie does. “I feel a little bit more at home when you smile.”
> 
> “Flirt,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
> 
> “Only with you, Eddie my love!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to personally thank and shame tumblr user @cherryboris for enabling me to continue writing this. i love you.

“Eddie,” Sophia, one of the other contortionists says. Eddie often performs with her, because she’s short, and it makes Eddie feel tall for the three minutes they’re performing. Her back is facing Eddie, and her zipper is caught. Eddie works it through, zips it up, and smoothes a hand across her back to check for any rips. 

“All good,” He says.

“Thank you, Eddie!” She says, whips around to hug him, and then rushes out of the dressing room. The tightrope dress rehearsal wasn’t for another hour or so, but Eddie knew he’d feel better if he was wearing his costume. It’s nothing more than a tight blue shirt and black pants, roughly the same shade as his show boots. It’s made from a stretchy fabric, and clings to his skin.

He wonders, briefly, what sort of costume Bev had done up for Richie. She and Ben had a couples costume for hand-balancing, but she might have done all three of them new costumes so their act would match and she’d still have her couples costume for Halloween. 

Eddie pulls on his show boots, the leather still shiny and black, unlike the worn matte his practice boots had faded to, and neatly folds his civvies into his backpack. He hangs the bag up, brushes a hand through his hair, smiles in the mirror, and walks out of the dressing room. It was Mike’s turn to practice. Mike’s dogs - Lucky, Ringling, and Cannonball - were yapping at his feet, refusing to jump through the hoop Stan was holding.

“They don’t like me,” Stan says.

“Well,” Mike says, and catches Lucky when the papillion jumps up. Eddie walks around to the centre bleacher, and sits in one of the front seats. The dogs are all wearing their show bows, big blue ribbons tied neatly around their necks. Lucky’s fur covered most of his. “I just thought it would be nice to have you on stage with me.”

Stan hands the hoop over, and when Mike holds it out and clicks his tongue, Ringling and Cannonball jump through happily, wagging their little tails. Both of those dogs were from the same litter, small mutt terriers, and Mike had had them before Eddie even joined the Denbroughs. 

“Oh shit,” Richie says, and Eddie stands up. Richie’s in what Eddie presumes is his costume - a loose white long sleeved button up, and black dance pants similar to Eddie’s. He looks good. “Oh, wow, Spaghetti. Lookatcha! How cute, oh my… I am going to have to thank your costume designer. Is it Bev? I bet it’s Bev. Devious woman.”

Richie pinches the front of his shirt, and he grins when he can’t pull it further than a couple centimetres.

“Lookin’ good,” Richie says, and it’s serious this time. He’s wearing his glasses, and his hair is an unbrushed messy that Eddie would expect if he’d just woken up. Eddie smiles.

“You look nice too,” Eddie says, and sits back down. Richie takes the spot next to him, and kicks his long legs out. 

“This has got to be the second cutest thing in this show,” Richie says, when Lucky jumps down from Mike’s hands to stand on his back paws, and trots around Mike in a neat circle. “First being you, but you already knew that. Do they really perform every night? I’ve never been in a circus with animals before. My parents were big on human-only performances.”

“Every two nights,” Eddie says. “Or less depending on how Mike feels about it.”

“You ever danced with the dogs?” Richie asks.

“When I did silks,” Eddie says. “Mike usually does silks so he brought them to practice. I taught Ringie how to climb a silk. The others can’t do it but it’s cute.”

“You did silks?” Richie says.

“Mm. Only do hoop, contortion, and tightrope now,” Eddie says. “It was a cheap class, and I always wanted to spend as much time as possible at the school where I learnt. I did pretty much everything. Except for the ventriloquism and Mike’s job, I used to be able to do this whole circus by myself.”

“Is there anything not perfect about you?” Richie says. Eddie looks at Richie, who looks completely serious. “Gee-woo! Save some talent for the rest of us, tiny. Next you’ll be telling me you’re a doctor.”

“My degree is in environmental science,” Eddie says, and Richie groans. “And I’m not tiny!”

“Mine’s in theatre,” Richie says. “But I have a feeling most people already know that.”

Eddie laughs. 

  
  
  


“You feeling okay for the opening tomorrow?” Jordan asks as they strip out of their matching costumes. Eddie hums an affirmative, and tries not to cringe at the sound of Jordan’s spray deodorant. He didn’t have asthma, he never did, but sometimes there's moments where he can’t breathe, and the unnatural scent of whatever Jordan used didn’t help. “I’m excited. The new silks girl is good.”

She’s alright. Eddie spent most of the silks warmup playing with Lucky, watching the other two dogs get used to Richie. Richie was roughly the same height as Mike, so the terriers were jumping up into his arms, licking his neck and face. Eddie can remember her face as she performed just then - not serene, but a little bored. 

“Richie’s pretty good,” Eddie says. The three man act Bev, Ben, and Richie had was good. The loose shirt hid the small tremors in Richie’s balances, and his arms in general, and Eddie found that he missed them. 

“Sure,” Jordan says, and slaps his shoulder. “See ya tomorrow, Ed.”

“Eddie,” Eddie says, but Jordan’s already gone.

  
  
  


“I brought fruit,” Eddie says, when Mike arrives back from his act. He’s sweaty from being under the lights, and once the dogs have settled into the corner, he sanitizes his hands and takes a strawberry gratefully. “You were super good today. The puppies were brilliant.”

“Weren’t they?” Mike says, and collapses onto one of the chairs. “I know I shouldn’t be worried but I always am.”

The monitor shows the light coming on again, so Eddie shoves another grape in his mouth. It should be hoops soon, when Eddie would have to go to stand-by to wait for his act. Bev steps out into the spotlight, wearing a similar outfit to Richie’s and bows. Eddie can hear the cheering. Ben and Richie are just behind her, and they lift her up onto Ben’s shoulder. They all wave, and then move to their starting positions. 

Eddie has seen Richie do this press a lot - a straddle lever. Richie is ever-so-slightly slower than Ben and Bev to getting into the first handstand, but his posture is better than Bev’s self-trained and Ben’s nervous hunch. 

“They’re good,” Mike says, rolling a blueberry between his thumb and pointer finger. They’ve moved from individual handstands to partnered, and Bev was currently being held up by only one of Ben’s hands. Bev drops, and then Richie’s on Ben’s shoulders, and then Bev’s climbing back up. A three-man stand. Eddie’s mouth is a little open as he watches Richie drop one of his hands from Bev’s, and he waves to the audience. 

“They are,” Eddie says. The hand-balancing is over soon before Eddie wants it to be. The monitor begins to play the first few seconds of the hoop routine. Bev comes through to the waiting area first, taking a huge gulp of water, and shoos Eddie out.

“Go!” Bev says, laughing breathlessly, and when Eddie leaves, he runs straight into Richie. Richie leans down a little, just so he’s closer to Eddie’s face, and he’s smiling softly. Richie raises one of his hands, still chalky from his stands, and cups it against Eddie’s cheek. Eddie leans into the touch.

“Good luck, Peter Pan,” Richie says.

“Thanks, Wendy,” Eddie says, and he knows he has to move, but he doesn’t want to. Eventually Richie drops his hand, and Eddie races to his stand-by spot.

  
  
  


“Darlin’,” Richie says. Eddie looks up from his humble warrior, and eases out of the stretch until he’s standing. Richie smiles, and shuffles closer. “Darlin’, can I borrow your drink bottle? Mine broke.”

“Yours…” Eddie starts. “Broke. Did you have a glass bottle?”

“Hmm? No, it was the one you got me before. Can I have some of your tea, babe, please. I’m very dehydrated and you know Bev likes to bully me when that happens.” Richie says. 

“No,” Eddie says. “I’ll get you an actual drink bottle.”

“I’ll buy one later,” Richie says, and bats his eyelashes. “Tea? Please?”

“Did you break it on purpose so I would give you my tea?” Eddie says, and grabs his drink bottle full of peach iced tea. He hadn’t drunk any today, so it was still heavy. He hands it over, and Richie pretends to collapse from the weight.“The teabags for this flavor aren’t even expensive. I can even buy you some.”

“No need,” Richie says, and takes a gulp. “I like the indirect kiss part.”

Eddie knows he’s blushing.

“You still need your own drink bottle!” Eddie says, and then looks down at his other bottle. He had three or so spares back at the hotel. “You- you can keep that bottle.”

Richie stares at him.

“You’ll have your own bottle then,” Eddie says. “And I guess you still get your kiss, since it was mine originally. And I have more bottles at home, so don’t worry.”

“You are something else,” Richie says. He shakes his head, hugs the bottle to his chest, and smiles. “You truly are something else, Eddie Kaspbrak.”

  
  
  


“I have an idea,” Richie says, as they watch the ticket line slowly grow. This was their last show here, and Eddie was letting himself enjoy the sunshine and relax, even if he was worrying about his contortion next week. Richie was helping, a little, by dragging him out and about, refusing to listen to Eddie’s half-hearted complaints. “How big are your hands?”

Eddie holds his hands up, and Richie presses his palm against Eddie’s. Richie’s fingers are longer, much longer, and his palm is bigger as well. 

“Cute,” Richie says. “I’ll get some stands.”

And then he walks away. He comes back a minute later, holding two sets of hand balancing stands, grinning. One of them was Ben’s practice stands - Eddie could see Ben’s initials carved into the sides. The other was Richie’s, with a shaky leopard print painted onto the metal parts of the stand. Richie hands Eddie his own stands, and pushes him so they’re walking near the start of the line.

“Your hands are smaller than mine,” Richie says. “And those are worn. They should be small enough for your cute  _ wittle _ baby hands.”

“What are we doing?” Eddie asks, and decides to ignore Richie’s comment.

“Handstand competition.” Richie says.

“You’re a hand balancer,” Eddie says.

“And?” Richie asks. Eddie grins, and drops his stands. “You told me you could do  _ everyone’s  _ job, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“You’re on, Tozier,” Richie grins as well, and sets his stands. The two of them are further apart than they usually are when they warm up, but Eddie knows Richie’s not above using his long limbs to cheat. “Three, two, one!”

Eddie kicks up to a handstand. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Richie do the same. Eddie can feel the burn in his arms almost immediately, and finds that adjusting your hands onto stands just that little bit too big was  _ hard.  _ Richie would have the same problem - Ben’s hands were massive - but Richie was probably used to it, from the amount of times he took everyone else’s stands to practice with. 

“What are you two doing?” Stan asks. Eddie’s not sure if Stan is close or far - it’s harder to tell if Stan’s throwing his voice when you’re upside down, apparently. 

“Handstand competition,” Richie chokes out.

“Alright.” Stan says. And then he drops something in front of Eddie, and maybe something in front of Richie. It’s Stan’s hat in front of Eddie, and Stan’s already dropped a coin into it. “Excuse me, miss, who do you think will last longer? America’s top male contortionist, Eddie Kaspbrak? Or a new member of the Denbrough family, Richie Tozier?”

“Oh, hard choice,” Eddie hears Bev say, and Eddie giggles, his arms shaking. Someone - Bev? - throws a coin into Eddie’s hat, and by the sound, a couple into Richie’s. They’re up for another minute before there’s more coins, and Eddie shifts into a straddle handstand, relaxing his legs until they’re past split-line. When Eddie looks at Richie, he’s done the same, although his straddle is nowhere near as flexible as Eddie’s. 

Eddie’s arms buckle after another minute or so, and he falls as gracefully as he can manage. Richie whoops, the sound broken from the awkwardness of being upside down, and he kicks down, much cleaner than Eddie. He holds his arm out, and Eddie shakes it.

“Good show, guvnor,” Richie says. 

“I knew you’d win,” Eddie says, and Richie pinches his cheek. Eddie huffs.

“Again?” Richie asks, and leans his head to the side.

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie says, and pulls his stands closer together. Richie counts down, and Eddie kicks up again, and tries to enjoy the burn in his shoulders this time. 

  
  
  


**eddie:** _ Dropped my car off at the rental place last night. Can you pick me up? _

**bev:** _ I’ll be five minutes. _

“Good morning,” Bev says as Eddie slides into the car. It’s spitting, but Eddie hadn’t pulled out his umbrella yet. It was horrible weather for packing up the tent, but at least they were packing up. New town, new people, and he wouldn’t have to worry about accommodation, because the park they were moving to was big enough to set up the performers’ tents. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” Eddie says. He was up late, but Richie wouldn’t stop sending him funny little jokes and photos of grumpy bunnies. “Could’ve been better.”

“Mm,” Bev agrees. “I always sleep weird during the week we leave.”

Bev pulls into the carpark. The big top hadn’t been taken down yet, which meant they’d be doing that the whole day. The smaller dressing room tent was still up, and most of the boxes and trucks surrounded it. That would be today's break room. Some of the children’s rides that had been set up by outside companies were still up, and Eddie could see the figure of Bill and his dad talking to one of the owners.

“Big top!” Eddie cheers weakly. 

“We should’ve stayed overnight,” Bev says. “Then we’d have an excuse to hide away in the break room.”

Eddie grunts in agreement, and gets out. His backpack is light, and only has an extra jacket, an umbrella, and his two drink bottles, one cold water and the other iced tea. He brought lunch, as well, but Bill usually convinced his parents to shout the performers pizza, or something similar. If not, Bev, Ben, Mike, Bill, Eddie and Stan would go out for a meal. 

He and Bev head straight for the breakroom, and Eddie slings his backpack into the pile of bags already in one of the corners. He collapses into a chair.

“Already tired?” Stan asks.

“I’m exhausted,” Eddie says. “Tightrope walking is exhausting. So many ladders. Why did I agree to do that this tour?”

“You’re contorting next show,” Bev says, and pets his head. 

“Not soon enough,” Eddie says. 

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, lads!” Richie says. Eddie raises his head to look up at him. Richie holds his arms out, and then picks Eddie up. Eddie shrieks, and almost falls off Richie when he sits them both back down on the chair. Richie’s grip on him is tight enough so Eddie doesn’t fall, but he shuffles further onto Richie’s lap just in case. 

“Good morning,” Stan says. Richie moves one of his arms to wave.

“When you’re done snuggling Richie,” Bev says. “Can you come help me clear out the smaller equipment pieces from the top?”

“He’s comfy,” Eddie says, even though he’s really not. Richie’s bony and even areas that are packed with muscle are hard and Eddie already knows if he stays in this position for much longer his joints will start to ache. So he sits up, and stands, and pops the joints in his neck. Richie’s pouting when Eddie looks at him. “Let’s go before the rain starts.”

“It’s barely autumn,” Stan says. “It should hold off until we leave.”

  
  
  


It doesn’t.

Eddie’s carrying as much net as he can, trying to not let it scrape against the ground, and once he reaches the exit to the top, he can hear the sound of rain. He sighs, kicks the door open, and peeks at how far the truck is. 

“I got you,” Richie says. Eddie turns to look at him - he was helping Mike with packing down the tightrope perches when Eddie saw him last. Now he’s wearing a raincoat, holding an umbrella over his head, and he gestures using his head for Eddie to join him under. Eddie shuffles over so most of him and the net are protected. They walk to the truck together, Richie stopping to grab parts of the next Eddie can’t hold to make sure they don’t get muddy.

“Excited to leave?” Eddie asks when they’re back inside.

“Hmm,” Richie hums. “Maybe. Excited to see you bend, yes. Excited to leave my poor frailing parents? No. I’m a momma’s boy, Spaghetti.”

“You won’t stay with the circus when we move out of Cali?” Eddie says, and he’s disappointed. A small part of him knows why but the rest does not.

“Well, I’m plannin’ ta stay,” Richie says, and swings an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, leading him back to Bev, who was taking apart one of the perches that had already come down. “Just gonna be a little homesick. You could help with that.”

“How?” Eddie says.

“Smile,” Richie says, and Eddie does. “I feel a little bit more at home when you smile.”

“Flirt,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Only with you,  _ Eddie my love, _ ” Richie sings, and he salutes to Eddie, and then skips off to join Mike in bringing down another perch.

  
  
  


“Road trip!” Mike cheers. Bill and Eddie cheer back, Stan doesn’t. “Down to Fremont!”

Eddie’s about to switch his phone to airplane mode - easiest way to conserve phone battery! - when Richie texts him.

**richie:** _ already missin ur sweet face :( _

Along with the message is a photo of Richie sitting in the driver’s seat of Bev’s car, Bev and Ben in the back seat discussing something. Richie’s pulling an exaggerated pout. Eddie quickly takes one of himself, showing Stan already positioning his pillow to sleep, and pouts as well.

**richie:** _ god ur the prettiest boy to ever exist _

**eddie:** _ Flatterer. _

**richie:** _ u still haven’t agreed to my date yet. i hafta try smth _

Eddie grins as he turns his phone off.

  
  
  


They’re in Fremont just before dark, and they immediately start setting the tents. Bill and STan work on theirs, and Mike helps Eddie with his. The other performers who came with the trucks and their own cars begin to trickle in, and Richie arrives with Bev and Ben once Eddie’s tent is finished - when the sun’s completely set. 

“I’ll stay with Mike tonight,” Bev says, eyeing her car still full of tent equipment, and Ben makes an agreeing noise. They walk away.

“You can stay with me,” Eddie says. “I have a sleeping bag-”

“It’s cold,” Richie says. It’s not. Eddie’s a little cold from being in shorts outside in the dark, but Richie’s wearing long pants and sweater. “I think it’d be best if we shared heat, eh, tiny?”

“Maybe so,” Eddie says, and he’s sleepy enough he lets the nickname slip. “Brush your teeth and we’ll sleep. I’ll help you set up your tent tomorrow morning.”

“Afternoon,” Richie corrects. Eddie smiles.

“Sure, afternoon,” Eddie says. “If you can sleep through the chance to see me after I’ve just woken up.”

“Oh, you  _ tease,”  _ Richie says, but he’s grinning, big and wide. 

  
  
  


Eddie wakes up to the sound of his third alarm.

He had different songs for each alarm, each becoming more and more aggressive. This was a rock song Eddie had listened to maybe once when he was going through his rebellious phase, and the blaring drum beat removed any chance of Eddie enjoying the good nights rest he had gotten. He pulls his limbs from Richie’s grasp, who groans and tries to pull him closer.

“We have to set your tent up,” Eddie says.

“We don’t hafta,” Richie mumbles. “We could stay like this forever.”

It’s more tempting than Eddie would admit to.

“C’mon,” Eddie says. “I’ll pay for breakfast if you get up now.”

Richie yawns, stretches out, and nods. He grabs his glasses from the table beside Eddie’s camping bed, and looks at Eddie, unblinking, for a moment. Eventually he sighs, pretends to faint back down to the bed, but moves all his body weight off Eddie so Eddie can leave.

  
  
  


Eddie’s job for the last day before the show starts is to set up the merchandise. He’s surrounded by boxes and boxes of clothes, spin-tops, bags of balloons, and god knows what else. He doesn’t usually get this job. Stan does it, so it looks neat, or Bev does it because she knows what customers usually like to buy.

Eddie pulls a t-shirt onto a stand -  _ Dazzled by Denbroughs!  _ He props it up next to the table, sets the box with the rest of the t-shirts under it, and then observes his work. He’s done barely anything.

“Aren’t gay people supposed to be good at decorating?” Richie asks, his legs shoved through the bars of the bleachers. Eddie looks up.

“I-” Eddie starts. “I haven’t come out to you.”

Richie blinks, slow and exaggerated. And then he uses both his arms to underline the middle of his shirt. Eddie looks down at his own shirt - it’s an old Christmas gift from Bev, and the top reads in rainbow letters  _ GAY CLOWN. _

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“You scared me,” Richie says. “Thought I’d been flirting with a straight guy for a second. Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re gay also,” Eddie says. “Why don’t you help?”

His next breath comes out shaky. Richie doesn’t deny, just laughs, and rests his head on his hands, leaning against the bars.

“I like watching you struggle,” Richie says. “It’s cute.”

  
  
  


Eddie groans, and throws an arm over his eyes. He’d left the tiny tent curtains open, and the early morning sunshine was far too much to handle. He lets himself adjust to being awake, and realises what woke him up - his phone. Someone was calling him. He moves his arm, and watches the call go through to voicemail, his eyes still hazy from sleep. Who would call him this early in the morning? Bev was probably sewing, Stan and Bill would be practicing, Richie wouldn’t be awake yet… 

Eddie grabs his phone, and when the person calls again, he answers.

“Eddie Kaspbrak speaking,” He says, and yawns.

“Eddie!” His mom says. “Eddie, oh, I’ve finally found you, Eddie-”

Eddie hangs up.

He can’t breathe.

**eddie:** _ You need to help me change my number. Right now  _

**bev:** _ Come into the top, explain yourself. _

Eddie swallows heavily, and presses his thumb against the power button. He shuts his phone completely off. He already has a bag packed for today so he wouldn’t have to come back to his tent, and his training outfit was laid out across his small dining table. He stands up, and his knees buckle, and he presses his face into his bed.  _ In, out,  _ he thinks.  _ In, out, in, out, your mother has found you. In, out. _

He gets dressed, and shoves his phone into his pocket, slings his backpack over his shoulders and walks out of his tent.

_ In, out, in, out. _

  
  
  


“My mom called me,” Eddie says, as soon as he’s entered the top. Bev holds her arms out, and hugs him, and Eddie sinks into it. 

“We’ll go change it,” Bev says. “Shh, it’s alright. You didn’t tell her anything?”

“Hung up right away,” Eddie chokes out.

“There’s my boy.”

  
  
  


Somehow Bev convinces him to get a new phone, and when he sees Richie, sleepy and still in pajamas as he leaves his tent, he holds it out, beckoning for Richie to take it.

“Put your number in,” Eddie says.

“Shiny new phone, cutie!” Richie says. “Any reason for an upgrade?”

_ I’m a literal circus runaway,  _ Eddie thinks.  _ And my mother just found out my number.  _ But he says- “Bev got to me.”

Richie laughs, and types in his number. He changes the contact name Eddie had already input, and holds the phone above his head when Eddie leans over to what he wrote. He texts himself, and his own phone buzzes out a melody from the pocket of his baggy pajama pants. It’s a melody Eddie knows, but he doesn’t know why. Richie hands Eddie’s phone back, and Eddie pulls up what Richie just sent.

**eddie:** _ cutest boy ever’s new number _

And then, out of nowhere, Richie hugs him. He smells sweet, like vanilla, and Eddie relaxes. Richie’s hugs are nice. He’s warm and he rests his cheek on the top of Eddie’s head, and clings tight enough that Eddie knows he’s there but not too tight. Richie begins to hum something, and tips them gently side-to-side, timing the movements to the beats in his hum.

“What’s that?” Eddie says, his voice muffled.

“A song my mom used to sing to me when I was sad,” Richie says. “You looked a little upsetti, Spaghetti.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, and groans, but doesn’t move away.

  
  
  


Eddie is halfway across the tightrope when he hears it. He shouldn’t be up here, but he didn’t want to stay still and stretch right now. He needed a distraction. But then the sound plays again - the default phone ringing. Eddie freezes, and the rope wobbles.

_ She’s found me,  _ Eddie thinks.

He falls.

“Didja just fall for me?” Richie asks, and holds an arm out to help him from the net. Eddie takes it, and climbs out. Richie doesn’t let go. He swings their arms together as he drags Eddie over to the ring curb, where their drink bottles are perched. Richie lets go to sit down and lean back against the curb, and Eddie follows. “You feelin’ alright, babe? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. And if you did see a ghost, you gotta tell me. I hafta win this bet against Billy-boy. _No ghosts in this circus,_ yeah right!"

“No ghost,” Eddie says. “Just… not having a great day.”

Richie pecks Eddie’s cheek, quick and sweet, and Eddie can’t control the smile that comes over his face.

“There it is!” Richie says. “That cute little smile. Don’t worry your pretty little head, Eds, I’ll cheer you up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, and then tips his head so it’s resting on Richie’s shoulder. “Yeah, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come hang with the gay clown who wrote this](https://onceagainthennevermore.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He reaches up on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek.
> 
> “Mistletoe,” Eddie whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> christmas in july but its february
> 
> anyway!!! thank you everyone for the kind words !! this has been one of my favourite fics to write. there should be another chapter, but one of these scenes is my baby ive been holding onto ever since i came up with this au, and im almost sad letting it into the world!
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

Bev and Ben bow, and Richie stands up tall, beckoning for everyone to clap. Eddie does, but Stan and Bill don’t, too busy in their own discussion and obsessing over Lucky. Ben stands up, grabs everyone’s stands, and lets Bev and Richie go for a break first.

“At least Eddie supports me,” Bev says, and flops into a chair beside Bill. He gives her a grin, and drops Lucky into her lap. She starts cooing, spoiling the little thing. Richie sits next to Eddie, and stretches his arms out, one of them settling onto Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie leans onto Richie as they watch the next rehearsal - the hoop girls - go out and set up their equipment.

“Morning, my love,” Richie says. “Whatcha doing for Christmas? My parents are asking me to bring that  _ cute little boy you’re always talking about  _ home.”

“No plans this year,” Eddie says. “And Mike doesn’t let people take Lucky home.”

Richie snorts.

“You wanna meet my parents, Spaghetti, or is that too much for a first date?” Richie says, and squeezes his arm tighter around Eddie.

“I’m staying with the circus this year,” Eddie says. “No plans but I’m staying here.”

“Right,” Richie says, and he pulls his arm back. “Right. Have fun.”

  
  


**eddie:** _ Bev where did you get my clown shirt? _

**bev:** _ I made it. _

**eddie:** _ Would you be able to make another by Christmas? _

  
  


“Who is this for?” Bev says, digging through her plastic box of stamps. Eddie sits on her chair, and spins himself around.

“Richie,” Eddie says. 

“Of course,” Bev says, and pulls out a stencil. It has the  _ GAY CLOWN  _ cut out, and the edges were dyed the rainbow Bev must’ve used for her practice shirt. Bev grabs a notebook, and flips through the pages. She pauses at a blank one, grabs another notebook, flicks it open to a page that read  _ Richie Tozier,  _ and she begins to scribble in the blank. “I could’ve guessed. You don’t do anything without him anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie whines.

“Eddie, I haven’t warmed up with you since Richie came,” Bev says. “The girls say you always sit with him instead of helping them with their splits.”

“I do help them!” Eddie says. “Just… not when I usually did.”

Bev laughs, and squishes his cheeks with her fingers. He frowns, and Bev coos. Ben peeks through the curtain-door, and waves.

“Richie’s asking for Eddie,” He says. “Something about cocktails?”

“We’re going out for drinks after tonight’s show,” Eddie says. 

“You like him,” Bev says, and Eddie’s mouth drops. Ben nods wisely. “You never drink with us.”

“Not true!” Eddie says.

“It’s kind of obvious, Eddie,” Ben says, quietly, and raises his arms up when Eddie springs out of the chair to thwack him. 

  
  
  


“Eddie!” Ella says. She’s his grandma’s live-in nurse, and had roomed with Eddie before he left for university. “Oh, it’s so nice to hear from you! Alice was beginning to worry you’d ran away to Europe or something! Did you want to talk to her, sweetie? She’s resting right now, but I’m sure I can pause her television so she can talk.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says. There’s a shuffling sound.

“Hello,” Eddie’s grandma says. “Who is this?”

“Eddie, nan,” Eddie says. “Just calling to check up on you.”

“Eddie!” She says. “I haven’t seen you for so long! Is your mother keeping you in the house again? I’ll come over and take you on a ride, sweetheart.”

“Nan, I’ve already moved out,” Eddie says, softly. “I’m in California right now. Have you seen my mom?”

“Sonia came over a week ago,” She says. “Told me all about your good marks in physical education! She was so worried you’d hurt yourself during it. And I said, no, the boy’s been doing his circus thing for years, he’ll be fine. And I was right! Are you enjoying school right now?”

“Yes, nan,” Eddie says. “Did mom ask for my number?”

“No…” Alice mutters. “Why would she?”

“Thank you, nan,” Eddie says. “I love you.”

“Love you,” She says, and then the shuffling sound comes again.

“She is beginning to lose her memory,” Ella says. “Sorry. There was a family reunion last week for an early Christmas and I forgot you couldn’t come. I’ve been saying  _ Oh, she hasn’t forgotten little Miranda, she’s just having memory loss issues right now!  _ so many times this week.”

She giggles.

“Bye, Ella,” Eddie says. “I’ll try to call more often.”

“Bye Eddie!” She says, and Eddie hangs up. He falls back onto his bed, throws his phone beside him, and presses his hands to his eyes. 

  
  
  


“Eddie,” Jordan says. He’s holding an armful of tinsel, and he’s looking up at the tightropes. The big top had been the last tent taken down this time around, as everyone staying for Christmas break had agreed to sleep in there. Eddie had already set his bedding down underneath one of the perches, where no one but the tightrope walkers had been.

“Mm?” Eddie says. He’s just finished helping Mike pack the last of the other tents into a truck. Everything was being sent back to New York, and when Christmas break was over, so was everyone staying with the circus for another season.

“Do you think Stan will let us decorate the wire?” Jordan says, and Eddie grins.

“Nope,” He says, and takes some of the tinsel. He’s already halfway up the ladder before Bill notices, and there’s a loud groan behind him. Eddie giggles. He’s not wearing his boots, so he doesn’t walk on the rope, but he tries to throw it so most of the rope is covered in the tinsel. “Merry Christmas, Billy!”

He falls back into the net, and hears Georgie yell happily.

He clambers out, waves at Bill, who scowls back but can’t help but grin when he looks up at the rope, and heads back over to Jordan. He helps carry the rest of the tinsel over to Bev, who was creating a sweater made entirely of the stuff.

“It’s going to be a little ugly,” Eddie says, as he watches Bev braid three strands of clashing green and neon yellow tinsel. Bev waves a hand nonchalantly.

“Richie isn’t paying me big money for nice looking clothes,” She says.

“No I ain’t,” Richie says from behind, in an over-exaggerated cowboy accent, and when Eddie spins around, he’s actually wearing a cowboy hat. Eddie reaches up on his tip-toes and plucks it off, putting it on his own head. “Well ain’t you the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve used that line before,” Eddie says.

“You make me speechless,” Richie says, and leans down so their noses are almost touching. 

“You’re still talking,” Eddie says, and slowly raises a finger to boop Richie’s nose. Richie blinks, goes cross-eyed for a second, and the grins.

“Ah, but you also make me nervous, babe,” Richie says. “And I talk when I’m nervous.”

“You’re talking always,” Eddie says, and when Richie stands up straight to say hello to Bev, he grabs Richie’s arm and wraps it around his shoulders. 

“Because I’m always around you!” Richie says, without missing a beat. Eddie laughs.

  
  
  


“Cutie, you want punch?” Richie says, talking into Eddie’s ear. Eddie’s still wearing his hat. It’s been an hour since the Christmas party had started, and everyone had already given out their presents. Eddie hadn’t yet, and as far as he could see, Richie hadn’t either. Eddie knows he’s hoping for something from Richie, but that’s not likely.

“No thanks,” Eddie says, and grabs Richie’s hand, spinning himself around so they’re facing each other. Richie grabs onto his hips, and smirks. “I have something for you. Come with.”

“Ooh,” Richie whistles. “I would’ve thought you were a wine-and-dine, three-dates-min kinda girl, Spaghetti.”

Eddie pulls them towards Bev’s office, and when they’re inside, he closes the door. He starts to dig through the pile of cloth left on the desk. He pulls out the shirt, grinning, and turns on his heel to look at Richie. He thrusts the shirt at him, and Richie takes it, holding it up so he can see the text. He grins.

“We match now, huh?” Richie says. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I thought- maybe you’d look nice in my shirt. So I asked Bev to make one for you too.”

Eddie looks up, and sees the sprig of glittery mistletoe he can vaguely remember Stan pinning up. Richie hasn’t noticed it yet, even though he’s almost tall enough to reach the top of the tent where the fake plant was hanging. The options run through Eddie’s head, and before he can stop himself, he reaches up on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek.

“Mistletoe,” Eddie whispers.

“Normally you get a kiss here,” Richie murmurs back, tapping Eddie’s lips with his fingers. Eddie smiles.

“You’ll get that kiss when you impress me,” Eddie says. “I’m still waiting, Tozier.”

“You’re lucky I like hard to get,” Richie says. “I have something for you too, darling, but it’s in Bev’s car. Wanna head outside with me?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and links their arms together. Richie leads them back into the main tent, and then through to outside, and then to the parking lot. Bev’s car, a small black car, the back covered in stickers, was parked in the spot furthest away. It’s cold outside, and Eddie presses closer to Richie.

Richie opens the boot, and holds out a wrapped gift. He leans against the car, and watches as Eddie opens it. There’s a sweater, big and soft, a beanie and a scarf, and a light blue polaroid camera. Eddie grins and brings the camera up to his face, examining it. He grabs Richie’s arm, pulls him back over, and takes a photo of them smiling.

“Thank you, Richie,” Eddie says, shaking the photo out. 

  
  
  


**richie 😏:** _ merry crimmas, candy cane. _

**eddie:** _ Merry Christmas, Rich. _

**richie 😏:** _ if i put on a santa costume would u sit on my lap ? _

**eddie:** _ No. _

**richie 😏:** _ is the tent boring w/o me? _

**eddie:** _ A little. Don’t tell anyone that. _

**richie 😏:** _ dw babe ill keep ur secret _

  
  
  


**richie 😏:** _ i made u a playlist, darling. _

**eddie:** _ Really? _

**richie 😏:** _ here. _

**eddie:** _ That’s super nice of you Rich. _

**eddie:** _ Even if it’s mostly made up of songs about pasta. _

Eddie clicks to download the playlist, tapping his foot, waiting so he can turn his phone on airplane mode. The playlist was the perfect length for the flight - fifteen minutes over the expected flight time, to account for taking off and landing, and everytime Eddie checks his phone to see how far along the download was he smiled.

He couldn’t wait to be back in New York. The gym they trained at was gigantic, and Eddie would be able to see his grandmother again, and he really wanted to take Richie out for an exploration of tourist traps. Richie had confessed he'd never been to New York, and Eddie was going to show him why he couldn’t leave.

The playlist finishes downloading, and Eddie plugs his headphones in and starts it up.

**eddie:** _ See you in NYC, Rich :) _

**richie 😏:** _ have a good flight, sweetheart :) _

  
  
  


“Back home!” Eddie cheers as he walks through the doors to their gym. Bev cheers back, and someone throws him a set of juggling pins. Eddie drops one, and Ben chuckles as he passes. “Are we already setting up?”

“Hometown show next week,” Bev says, and gestures to the pile of costumes she was repairing. “Everything that just got shipped here is headed back out.”

Eddie groans. Hometown shows meant hotel rooms, as the parks they’d perform at were always just out of a reasonable bus ride. He picks the pin back up, and follows Ben outside to his car. The trucks must have already been sent out, Eddie realises. 

Richie’s shoving an armful of fabric into the backseat of the car as they walk over. Ben sighs, and helps him place it in, dropping the pins on top of the fabric.

“Morning, Spaghetti,” Richie says.

“Morning,” Eddie says.

“I just got here, and we’re already moving,” Richie says. “My parent’s circus was nothing like this.”

“Denbroughs’ is special,” Eddie says. Richie smiles.

“Sure is.”

  
  
  


“Holy shit, Mike!” Richie screams from the over side of the top. Eddie looks up from his split, his hips popping as he jumps up. Mike had just walked into the big top, holding something small and orange in his arms. Richie, still in his practice clothes and wrist supports, runs up to Mike, and takes whatever Mike was holding. Eddie squints. “This is the cutest little baby I’ve ever seen, I swear, oh, Mike!”

It’s a kitten. Richie coos over it, scratching its ears, and when he puts his face next to the kitten, it licks his nose. Richie laughs, and presses a kiss to the side of the kitten’s head.

“Holy shit,” Richie repeats. Eddie starts to walk over. “Whatcha naming him, strongman?”

“Gingerbread,” Mike says. “He’s a little young, only seven weeks, but he’s a stray.”

Gingerbread raises a paw, its toes flexed out, and Richie seems to melt, tickling the bottom of the kitten’s paw. It meows. When Eddie gets close enough, Richie places the kitten gently into Eddie’s arms, and pulls out his phone. He takes a couple photos - Eddie looks up and smiles, but he can’t help from also looking down at Gingerbread and kissing its little face. The whiskers tickle Eddie’s lips, and he laughs, and Gingerbread bats at Eddie’s nose.

“I can’t work tomorrow,” Richie says. Eddie looks up, and Gingerbread wiggles out of Eddie’s grasp to wind itself around Richie’s feet. He’s staring at his phone. “My heart is about to give out, Mikey.”

“Gingerbread is very cute,” Mike says, and when he tries to pick the kitten back up, it hisses at him, and climbs up Richie’s legs. Mike laughs, and digs through his pockets for a resealable bag of treats, tempting the little feline from shredding Richie’s jumper. Richie shakes his head, and gives his phone over to Mike. Mike  _ awws.  _ “That is adorable.”

Richie clutches his phone to his chest, smiles, and then reaches out and ruffles Eddie’s hair.

“You wanna finish warm up together, my darling peach?” Richie asks, and slings the arm he used to mess with Eddie’s hair around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie nods, shrugs, and leads them back over to Eddie’s yoga mat. Richie leaves his stands where they were, following Eddie’s stretches as best as he can. 

  
  
  


Morning performances were always awkward. They’d finish, sweating through their costumes even as it rained outside, and then everyone would go outside to cool down and buy sugary treats, and all the audience would come up and beg for a free extra show. Mike had agreed to an extra today, and pulled his guitar out of the dressing room, and was sitting under a tree and strumming softly, the children around him skipping and dancing. Eddie stands near, just watching, Richie lying flat on the ground, sunglasses on and trying to rest.

“Eddie? Eddie Kaspbrak?” Someone asks, and Eddie spins around. Richie sits up, and leans his head against Eddie’s leg. It’s Eddie’s cousin, John, someone Eddie hasn’t seen since he was fifteen. 

“Jack,” Eddie says. “Didn’t expect you in New York. Always said you wouldn’t come.”

“Family vacation,” John says. “I gotta go. Your show today was… interesting.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, and as John leaves, Richie stands up, still leaning against Eddie, resting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Prick,” Richie murmurs, his voice thick from tiredness. “You were amazing, Tinkerbell.”

“I like Peter better,” Eddie says, turning his head to look at Richie. Richie’s smiling, lazily, his eyes closed. 

“You’re not comfy around your family?” Richie says, after a minute. Eddie shrugs.  _ Of course not,  _ he thinks, but he doesn’t want to admit it out loud. “Come back to my hotel room tonight, Peter Pan. I’ll shout us dinner. And drinks, if you want. Let’s have a sleepover, babe. Come hang out.”

“Alright,” Eddie says. “Sure.”

  
  
  


“Time to go home,” Richie yawns, and links their arms together. Their evening show had just finished, and Eddie was pleasantly exhausted. He’s leaning on RIchie as they walk to the carpark, and his knees and back twinges from his rushed warm up before the second show. John’s presence had put Eddie off. Richie unlocks the car.

“Takeout time,” Eddie agrees.

“What sorta pizza do you like?” Richie says, and slides into his seat. Eddie follows, buckles up immediately, and glares at Richie when he does not. Richie raises his hands in surrender, and buckles his seatbelt. “I usually buy the one that looks most like a heart attack but I have a feeling you aren’t into that.”

“Not really,” Eddie says. “Maybe Hawaiian?”

“Pineapple on pizza?” Richie screeches. He’s grinning. Eddie nods, slightly, and Richie cheers. “I’ve found another pineapple eating bastard! Hah, that’ll show Stan! Yes, Eddie, god, I could kiss you right now.”

_ Why don’t you?  _ Eddie almost says. 

“It’s the ultimate topping,” Eddie says, and Richie claps, cheers, and pretends to bow.

“The things you do to my heart, Eddie Kaspbrak!” Richie exclaims, and then turns the car on, wrapping his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat so he can look behind. Eddie leans against the window, trapping Richie’s hand, but he doesn’t complain. The ride to Richie’s hotel is silent, with only the soft sound of whatever radio station Richie had playing.

Richie relinks their arms when they go inside, holding Eddie flush to his body in the elevator.

“I didn’t bring clothes to change into,” Eddie says, and Richie shrugs.

“You can wear some of my clothes,” Richie says, and unlocks his door. He grabs a towel hanging from the wall, digs through his bag for a pair of sweatpants and a jumper, presents them to Eddie, and using his head gestures to the bathroom. “Have the first shower. I gotta clean my bed so it’s presentable.”

When Eddie comes out of the shower, clean and his hair damp, Richie was talking on the hotel phone, sitting against the bed, now made and free of already worn shirts and jeans.

“An Edward Kaspbrak?” Richie says. “I’m sorry. I don’t share information about my friends to people I don’t know and trust.”

There’s a muffled sound of someone else talking, and Richie makes a yapping motion with his hands.

“You’re family?” Richie asks, and Eddie’s heart drops. “Yeah, that’s great, but you see- I don’t know you. He’s healthy, he’s safe. There’s no need for you to threaten police- dude, what the hell?”

“Police?” Eddie hisses. Richie’s eyes are open wide, and his face is scrunched up in confusion.

“He’s a missing person?” Richie says, quietly. “Are you-”

He looks at Eddie, and Eddie shakes his head furiously.  _ No,  _ he mouths,  _ no I’m not missing, don’t listen, please, I’m not missing. _

“Goodbye,” Richie says, after a minute of listening to whoever the person was rant, and slams the phone down into its dock. He heaves a great sigh, rubs under his glasses, and then looks back up at Eddie, and smiles. “So. I can see why you’re not big on family, babe.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Eddie says, and Richie pulls him forward into a hug. 

“Don’t be,” Richie says, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Just means I’ll have to work out with Ben so I can learn how to protect you.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he laughs.

  
  
  


Richie snores, and Eddie finds it more endearing than he should. 

Eddie finds a lot of things about Richie more endearing than he should. Eddie sighs, brushes a stray curl from Richie’s forehead, and snuggles closer.

“I like you,” He whispers, and shakes his head. “Darling… no. Rich, honey, I think I like you.”

Richie makes a noise that isn't a snore, and Eddie freezes. He starts snoring again, and Eddie relaxes. He traces circles into Richie’s chest, and whispers his confession again. One day he’d be brave enough to say it again.

  
  
  


“You know how to walk backwards,” Richie says.

“Sure,” Eddie says. Richie gestures up to the tightrope, and to Eddie’s backpack, where his boots are. Eddie raises an eyebrow, and smiles.

“Let’s partner,” Richie says. Eddie laughs, nods, and pulls his boots on. Richie grabs an old pair from his own bag, one Eddie knows Bev had given to Richie, and they walk to the base of a perch. Richie lets Eddie climb up first, and Eddie scrambles up as fast as he can. He tests the resistance. It’s a little loose, but partnering should tighten the rope out. He takes a step, turns so he’s backwards, and watches Richie finish climbing up.

He takes another few step backwards, and Richie takes one forward. They keep going until they’re both roughly in the middle.

“I bet you’ll balance longer,” Richie says.

“What? No,” Eddie says. “Your job is to  _ balance,  _ Richie.”

“On my hands,” Richie says, and they laugh. 

Eddie grins, holds his arms out, and tips his head back. Richie steps closer, forcing Eddie to continue holding his arms out for balance, and curls his fingers into Eddie's hair.

"Tell me to stop," Richie whispers. He leans, and then kisses Eddie. Eddie forgets balancing, bringing his arms in to clutch at Richie's shirt. Richie pulls back after a couple seconds, and Eddie only has the time to take a breath before his knees give out.

He falls.

He lands in the net, chest heaving, and when he looks up to Richie, he’s still standing on the rope, looking down at Eddie. Eddie scrambles out of the net, his feet catching on the holes, and wrenches a boot off. He throws it at Richie, and Richie catches it, wobbles, but doesn’t fall. Eddie screeches, and pulls the other boot off.

“Get down here!” He yells. Richie laughs, and when Eddie hits him with the other boot, he falls. “Get down!”

Richie climbs out of the net slower than what Eddie wants. 

“Did you do that just to win the bet?” Eddie says, and when Richie stands up, Eddie shuffles closer. 

“No,” Richie says, his voice a little hoarse. “You won the bet.”

Eddie kisses him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i changed my url. come have some fun w/ himbotozier >:)](https://himbotozier.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any nefarious reasons behind my invitation, Mr Tozier?”
> 
> “Oh, not at all,” Richie says. “Unless that is something you would enjoy, Mr Kaspbrak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this took a while, huh?
> 
> thank you to everyone who sent nice messages over at my tumblr! i love you all so much. i hope you enjoy whatever this is :)!!!

Richie pulls away, but stays close, hands resting on Eddie’s hips.

“So,” He croaks, then coughs, clearing his throat, bringing a hand up to brush a strand of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Does this mean when I ask for a date next you’ll say yes?”

“I guess you’ve impressed me enough,” Eddie whispers, and Richie laughs, ducking his head to the side to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie laughs too, face buried in Richie’s hair, giggling and grinning and wrapping his arms around Richie’s middle to feel him laughing as well. “Yeah, Richie, I’ll go on a date with you.”   
  
Richie grips Eddie’s hips tighter, then picks him up, spinning the two around. Eddie shrieks with laughter, and clings to Richie. When Richie stops, dropping him back to the ground, he gets another kiss, given through a smile.

“How ‘bout right now, peach?” Richie whispers. “No need for us to practice. You’re already perfect. C’mon.”

“Only if you pay,” Eddie says, and smiles. His face is beginning to hurt.

“You cut a harsh deal, darling,” Richie says, but he holds his elbow out for Eddie to take. Eddie does, and then drops his hand to intertwine their fingers. “I’ll even splurge for a grande latte for you.”

“I’m swooning,” Eddie says, but he’s laughing and smiling still.

  
  
  


The cafe Richie chooses is small and cramped, shoved into a space that’s barely bigger than Eddie’s hotel bathroom. All the seating space is outside, surrounded by large space heaters and large umbrellas to block the sun, and the inside smells like freshly cooked shortbread and strong coffee. There’s just enough room for the two of them to stand next to each other, but they could be classified as a fire hazard blockage. Eddie decides to stand just behind Richie, chin on his shoulder, on his tiptoes to read the menu.

“Cotton candy frappe,” Eddie whispers to Richie, pointing at the menu. 

“Two cotton candy frappes of your largest size, if you can, good sir,” Richie says, falling into a British-sounding voice, and the attendant just blinks before turning his back and digs through the bottles of syrup. There’s nowhere for them to move to be out of the way, but the shop doesn’t seem to be so popular. Everyone else just walks by, eyes slipping past the small sign placed out front.

One frappe is done before the other, but Eddie leaves it on the counter, waiting for Richie to take it. He doesn’t. 

“Cheers,” Richie says to the attendant when the second frappe is done, and picks it up. Eddie picks up his own, and holds it out to Richie. Richie clinks his plastic cup against Eddie’s, and they take a sip in unison. Eddie cracks up at the taste, the drink seemably made of fake strawberry flavour and pure,  _ pure  _ sugar. Richie laughs too, some of the pink liquid on his lips. “Is it gross or is it good?”

“Good,” Eddie says, but he’s not looking at the drink.

  
  
  


“Ginger!” Richie squeals, and holds his hands out. Mike chuckles from the otherside of the big top, the little orange ball perking up at the sound of Richie’s voice. As Mike walks closer, Gingerbread squirms and wriggles, and eventually breaks free to trot across the ground and look up at Richie with big eyes. Richie picks the little kitten up, cooing and awwing, and it snuggles into his chest.

“He likes Richie better than he likes me,” Mike says, watching the display.

“Richie almost likes it more than he likes me,” Eddie says, and Richie’s head snaps up, and he shakes it violently. Eddie laughs lightly, and reaches a hand out to scritch at Gingerbread’s little ears. He sticks his chin out, waiting for Richie to kiss him.

He doesn’t. He’s too distracted playing with Gingerbread’s toes, making the kitten stick his claws out.

“Richie,” He says, and Richie looks down at him. He gestures with his chin to Richie’s face, and then pouts. “Richie, I’m asking for a kiss.”

Richie smiles, and leans forward to kiss him. Gingerbread’s fur scratches against Eddie’s neck, itchy and tickly, but Eddie doesn’t really mind. 

  
  
  


“Eddie can hold a good handstand,” Eddie hears Richie say when he walks into the big top. Eddie looks up from his phone, eyebrow raised. Richie grins, and beckons Eddie over the rest of the hand-balancers - Bev, Ben, and a younger boy who Eddie hadn’t seen yet. He reaches the group, and Richie pulls him in for a short kiss. It’s still so unfamiliar a gesture that it makes Eddie smile. “Do ya reckon you can handstand on my hands, Eds?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “If you wear your wrist supports.”

“Tiger paws are  _ on _ ,” Richie says, and takes the wrist supports from Bev, who seemed to have everyone’s bags at her feet. He straps them on as fast as possible, and holds them out for Eddie to inspect. Eddie’s never worn wrist supports, so he doesn’t know what to look for, but he nods in approval. 

Richie leads them to a crashmat, and stands just in front, and points his thumb at the square block.

“Just for help in getting up,” Richie says, and Eddie jumps on top of the block. Richie bends his knees, and holds his hands out, ready for Eddie to grab. Eddie hasn’t partner-balanced for quite a while, so he’s a little hesitant to step on Richie’s thighs to climb up. “C’mon, cutie. You trust me?”

Eddie places his other foot onto Richie’s thighs, and grabs his hands, hoisting himself up so he’s standing on Richie’s shoulders. Eddie straightens his arms, takes a deep breath, and straddle-presses up to a handstand. It’s a little shaky, especially when Richie straightens his own arms out, and then Eddie is handstanding a whole six feet off the ground.

They stay in that position for a couple seconds, but Eddie’s hands get slippery, and he moves to adjust like he would on the ground, forgetting that there’s nowhere to go. He lets go of Richie’s hands, and falls to the crashmat, trying to twist so he lands on his back.

“Good!” Richie cheers. “That was  _ fantastic!  _ Let’s try again. You reckon you can get on me without the box?”

Eddie stands up, twisting as to pop the joints in his back, and then nods. Richie grins, big and mischievously, and Eddie feels his own smile copy. 

  
  
  


“I’m a little sore from falling all day,” Eddie says, and Richie smacks a kiss to his forehead, mumbling a lazy  _ True Love’s Kiss Powers!  _ Eddie laughs, and goes on his tiptoes to return the kiss. “Thanks, Rich, I’m all better now.”

“If you’re still sore,” Richie murmurs, and stretches out, spreading his lanky body over multiple of the bleacher’s seats. “You can always come to my hotel tonight. I’m good with massages.”

He holds a hand out and wiggles it, grinning.

“You’re inviting me to your room,” Eddie echoes, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Richie shrugs, then nods, and wiggles his fingers again. Eddie takes that hand in his, linking in their fingers together. “Any nefarious reasons behind my invitation, Mr Tozier?”

“Oh, not at all,” Richie says, easily shifting to a gentleman's accent, tilting his head gently. Richie always had new movements when he performed a voice, and this one had movements that were soft, small. His smile dips down into something more gainly, an actor's smile. It was fascinating. “Unless that is something you would enjoy, Mr Kaspbrak.”

“Perhaps,” Eddie says, attempting to echo the accent. It’s nowhere near as good as Richie’s, but it makes Rich break character and smile properly, raising his eyebrows and softly laughing. “I’ll have to decide after you show me how good you can massage.”

“Nefarious intentions, definitely, sir,” Richie says. “Dastardly evil things running through my mind.”

“Good,” Eddie says, and leans over to kiss Richie’s nose.

  
  
  


“Eddie,” Sophia says, and pouts a little. He stands up, shooing Ringling back to Mike. The terrier growls a little as his petting session is cancelled, but he obediently trots across to where Bill and Mike were discussing something. “Eddie, can you help with my stretching today?”

“Of course,” Eddie says, and smiles. Sophia smiles back, and places her own yoga mat next to Eddie’s, and lies on her back, sticking her left leg up in the air. Eddie grabs the back of her thigh, and her calf, and pushes her leg down until she’s in splits, her toe touching the ground next to her head.

“I’m so sore,” She groans. Eddie laughs, and presses down a little harder.

“Richie!” Bev screams from the other side of the ring top. Eddie’s head shoots up, and he lets go of Sophia’s leg. They both scramble up, and walk to the ring curb to see what happened. Bev never sounds like that- scared, in distress. 

Richie’s lying on the ground, forehead pressing into the mat as he arches up to stop his wrist from having weight rested on it. He rolls over, and stares blankly up at the ceiling. Eddie hops the ring curb, and runs over, sliding into a sitting position and pulling Richie’s head into his lap. Richie groans, tilting his head up to smile at Eddie, but it’s strained.

“Rich, can you move your fingers?” Bev says, and her hands flutter between Richie’s wrist and gesturing for Ben to go collect something. Richie wiggles his fingers on his left hand and then hesitantly moves the ones on his right hand. He curses, and Bev finally takes a hold of his wrist. She examines it, moving it as gently as she can, and sighs in relief. “Just a sprain.”

“Just a sprain?” Richie says. “My job is my hands, Bev.”

“We can’t fix this in time for a show,” Bev says, and thanks Ben when he finally passes a first aid box over. She pulls out a roll of bandages, and begins to wrap them firmly around Richie’s wrist and hand. “You’re out of your job.”

“What?” Eddie says, and looks at Bev. 

“He can’t balance like this,” Bev says. Richie sits up, cradling his arm to his chest. “He’s not allowed to do anything with it except use his supports for the next two weeks, at least. He can’t hand balance tonight, or for another couple months.”

“What’s happened?” Bill yells, and hops the ring curb like Eddie. Stan follows, going through the little gate. Bill hisses when he sees Richie’s wrist. 

“What else can you perform?” Stan says, holding Lucky in his arms, the papillion dozy and sticking his little tongue out. Richie shuffles, still holding his wrist to his chest, and shrugs. Eddie wraps his arm loosely around Richie’s waist, watching the ground, feeling sick every time he glances at bandages wrapped around Richie’s arm.

“I can sword-swallow,” Richie says. “I can breathe fire, too. And I have a clown act prepared.”

“Sword swallowing?” Bill says, grinning. “I don’t think the Denbroughs’ has ever had a sword swallowing act.”

“Then I’m your guy,” Richie says, and grins as well, pulling Eddie closer, arm around his shoulders. “I’ll call my parents, get them to mail my swords over. Direct shipping will only take a couple days, and then I’ll show you the routine I got. But if you- don’t like it, I can learn a new one, easy peasy lemon squeezey.”

All Eddie can hear in his head is Bev saying  _ You’re out of a job. You’re out of a job. You’re out of a job. _

“Looking forward to it,” Bill says. “But Georgie is going to want you to teach him. He’s been begging for sword swallowing lessons since you arrived.”

Richie smiles, but it’s still a little weak.

  
  
  


Richie has spread swords all over the mat, and is staring down at them. Eddie walks over, and looks down at them as well. Some are long, thin, and gleamingly sharp. Others are curved, or thick, and there’s an older looking one where the end is chipped, the inside of the metal stained a blood-like brown.

“Which ones are you going to use?” Eddie asks. Richie picks up three of the thinner ones, and then one curved, mimicking the curve he’d have to do for it to go down his throat.

“The little ones are better,” Richie says, and drops the curved one back down. He packs the swords up, stacking the straight ones in a pile, and wrapping the curved ones up in fabric and places them carefully into a bag. “I haven’t sword-swallowed for ages. If I use the curved ones I’ll slice my throat from the inside.”

“Ow,” Eddie cringes, and feels a little sick at the thought of it.

Richie sighs, and rolls his shoulders out, and then clears his throat. He picks up one of the smaller swords, and raises it up, tilting it side to side so Eddie can see how glossy the edges were. Then he opens his mouth, and slowly slides the sword inside. Eddie’s mouth drops. Richie keeps going until the hilt reaches his lips, and he does a quick jazz-hand motion before pulling the sword back out.

“Still pretty clean,” He says, and rubs his Adam's apple. “Throat isn't sore at all.”

“Looked good,” Eddie says, and Richie smiles.

“I can do more,” Richie says, and gestures to the pile of straight swords. “I used to be able to fit all these down my gullet. An old friend called me trashmouth because of the state of my practice swords.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing your performance then,” Eddie says, and kisses Richie’s cheek. 

  
  
  


“Good show, Peter Pan,” Richie says when Eddie runs off, catching him before he runs into the break room, hooking his arms around Eddie’s waist to spin him around. Eddie laughs deliriously, and flings his arms around Richie’s neck. “Truly spectacular.”

“You’re just saying that, Wendy,” Eddie says, when Richie puts him back on the ground. Richie hums, and kisses him softly, smelling of chalk and tasting of the grey metal his swords were made of. When Richie pulls away, Eddie twists his head so the joints in his neck pop, and he relaxes against his boyfriend. “Your show was good today, too. But you need to rest your hand.”

Watching Richie swallow swords was never going to get old,  _ ever _ . The way he slides them down his throat seamlessly, the way he presents himself once he has three, or four, or five down, and the triumphant way he stabs them into the holding block once they’re out. 

“Hand’s fine. But what would you say to some drinks?” Richie says, brushing a hand through the back of Eddie’s hair, pulling some of the wax out. “Did the swords impress you enough for a date?”

“You don’t need to impress me anymore,” Eddie says, poking Richie’s chest.

“I want to,” Richie replies.

“Then sure, you impressed me heaps. Let’s have a date,” Eddie says. “But I’m paying.”

“We can do that,” Richie says, and leans in for another brief kiss, then skips off to help Mike carry the dog’s overnight cages into his own tent, winking and waving at Eddie. Eddie smiles, and continues on his path to the breakroom, each step a little floatier than the one before.

  
  
  


“I want champagne,” Richie says when the show is over, and all expensive and important items have been locked or placed in someone’s car to be taken to their hotel. Eddie shakes his head, and shoves his hand into Richie’s pocket, his fingers freezing, but unwilling to grab Richie’s injured hand. “Will you let me buy you a drink, my shining star of the show?”

“Only if I can buy yours,” Eddie says, and Richie answers by pecking his cheek. They walk off together, slowly walking back to Richie’s rental car. 

“Eddie?” Someone calls, and Eddie turns around, pulling his hand out of Richie’s pocket. It sounds familiar, but Eddie can’t see anyone behind him. He cocks his head. “Eddie! It is you! Oh, baby, I’ve finally found you, oh!”

Richie grabs onto Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie turns to face the car park again. His mother is standing in front of one of the cars, two of his cousins next to her, and she’s crying. They don’t look like her usual crocodile tears, but Eddie freezes anyway, suspicious. She takes a couple steps forward, bursting into a fresh wave of tears, beckoning him

“Eds,” Richie murmurs. “Do you want to go back to the ring top?”

“No,” Eddie says, but his voice is shaky. “I need to tell her something.”

He’s not sure if he wants Richie with him or not. He doesn’t want Richie to see any of this. But Richie lets go of his shoulder, and holds his phone up. He has Mike’s number already tapped into the phone. 

“If she touches you I’m calling him,” Richie says, and Eddie smiles, and kisses Richie’s cheek, and looks at his mom. She’s shocked through the tears, watching him with big eyes, and Eddie swallows heavily.

“What do you want?” He calls out.

“I want you to come home,” She says, and comes a little closer. She’s still crying, and Eddie can hear his younger self begging him to go over there and hug her, just to stop it. He stays next to Richie steadfast, though, planting his feet and sticking his chin up. He’s shorter than her, but he feels taller when he stands like this. “I just want you to come home to me, Eddie-bear. I missed you so much- I was so worried when you disappeared, I’d thought you’d been kidnapped-”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I was called by the police because of three missing persons reports.”

“Eddie,” Sonia says, and her voice is a littler harsher, more familiar. “Come home. You know it’s not safe here. All the… dirty animals, and the bad food, and- and- the performers do so many drugs, I told you about that years ago when you first told me about this dirty little habit of yours. I just want you to be safe and healthy, Eddie.”

“It’s safe here,” Eddie says. “It’s safer here for me than your house ever was.”

“Eddie,” She says, and the tears have finally stopped. “Eddie, you are wasting your life away here. Come home. It’s no shame to go through community college at your age, plenty of people are doing it now. I’ll even help you out. It’ll be like before, back when you were in elementary school. Come home, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie says, and takes a step back. Richie copies. “No, I’m not going back. I’m my own adult, mom, and I was when I left. I get to make my own decisions.”

“And what will happen when those decisions end badly?” Sonia says, and comes closer again. “When you- inevitably break a bone, and no one at this trash-fire of a circus cares? You’ll lose your job, and because you never had any experience within your degree, you won’t find another! When your  _ boyfriend  _ gives you something incurable, what will you do then, Eddie? You’ll run back home, and I’ll take you in. I’ll always be there for you, Eddie.”

“I’m not going back!” Eddie yells. He feels like he’s eighteen again, ranting in his grandmother’s fogged up bathroom mirror, trying to convince himself he made a good decision. “I’m not fucking going back! I’m not!”

“You don’t know the consequences of what you are doing!” She yells back.

“I do,” Eddie says, and he’s burning so hot tears fall down his face. “I know the consequences. I’m free from you, and I enjoy every fucking day of my life, mom! I don’t want to see you ever again. Ever! And I know the consequences of that. I’ll be able to stay here, and perform my shows, and be with my boyfriend, and not have to worry about you tracking me down! Leave me alone!”

“Your boyfriend,” Sonia says, and Richie holds his phone up, and presses the dial button. He steps away from Eddie, and starts discussing with Mike quietly. “Is as bad for you as the rest of this place!”

“Then he’s the best thing that ever happened to me!” Eddie says. “Go away. Leave. I don’t want to see you. You’re… I want you to leave.”

Richie is back at his side, and he wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist. Eddie tries to be careful leaning into it, knowing it’s his bad wrist, but he can’t help himself. 

“We’re closing up!” Mike yells, and jogs down to Richie and Eddie. “You gotta leave soon, guys, otherwise we’ll all be trapped here for the night.”

Eddie’s cousins pile into the car, but Sonia doesn’t.

“You’re not my mother,” Eddie says, and shakes his head. The tears are still falling but they don’t feel as bad as he thought they would. He feels a little like he’s being reborn, baptized. “Leave. I don’t ever want to see you again. Mike-”

“You have to get off the property,” Mike says, and he sounds so calm, and firm, and Eddie watches his mother finally turn around and go back to the car. He holds his breath until the car starts up, and drives away. Richie holds his waist strong and steady.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, his voice still shaky. He raises an arm to brush away the tears. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Richie says, and kisses his jawbone. “You are… you are the strongest person I know, Eddie. And now I definitely think we need to drink some champagne in celebration.”

Eddie giggles weakly.

“My little leap-frog,” Richie says. “Jumping over the obstacles the universe gave you with no effort. That’s the way to do it. Treat ‘em like stepping stones. Let them lead you to something better, huh?”

“Best thing ever,” Eddie hums, and wipes the remaining tears away. His eyes are still so hot, and he feels ready to go off at any moment, but now he’s smiling. “Yeah, I need some champagne.”

“Hell yeah!” Richie cheers, and kisses him on the corner of his mouth. “Then let’s head out, my darling peach. I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and kisses Richie back. “I know, honey.”

Eddie can't go home. He's already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come hit me up over at @himbotozier on tumblr](https://himbotozier.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [come hang with me on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/onceagainthennevermore)


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